Everyone knew Drew Starkey. He was the Drew Starkey—Hollywood’s golden boy, adored by every girl alive, and undeniably the most handsome man on Earth. Girls screamed his name, posters of him were plastered everywhere, and he couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized.

And then there was you. The world’s most adored woman. A triple-threat: actress, model, and influencer. With green eyes that could stop time, a perfect button-straight nose, pink plump lips, dirty blonde hair that fell effortlessly, white teeth, little freckles across your cheeks, and a body that made headlines every time you stepped on a red carpet. If Drew was the king of fame, you were the queen.

But your story wasn’t the usual fairy tale. You and Drew had known each other since forever. Your families were extremely close—like vacations-together, holidays-spent-as-one close. And most importantly, never having romantic feelings for each other. Never kissed. Never dated. Never even looked at each other that way.

Then came Outer Banks.

You both landed roles as on-screen lovers. You kissed on camera, held hands, looked longingly into each other’s eyes—and still, when the director yelled “cut,” it was just you and Drew. Laughing, high-fiving, teasing. Still just best friends.

But then came that night.

Drew’s sister Brooke had planned a fun night out at a club, just to unwind. You, Drew, Brooke, and a couple of Drew’s friends hit the city lights with zero intentions—just drinks, dancing, and catching up. But the drinks didn’t stop. Tequila? Bad idea. Vodka? Worse.

You and Drew woke up in a hotel room the next morning. Naked. Bed sheets messy. Clothes on the floor. Your mascara smeared under your eyes, his curls a disaster. You both blinked at each other in silence… and then burst into laughter.

“Yep. This happened,”

Until…

The throwing up started. The bloating. The weird cravings. Your body still looked flawless—hourglass and glowing—but something inside you knew.

You took a test.

Positive.

You stared at the tiny screen for ten straight minutes, heart pounding. You were barely in your twenties—but something about it didn’t feel wrong. It felt… exciting. You told Drew the second you saw him. He blinked in shock and tried—tried so hard—to keep a straight face.

But of course, he laughed.

“Are we gonna be co-parents to a literal baby Starkey?”

he said between laughs and you immediately smacked him on arm So, you two made a pact. Best friends forever. Now with a baby on the way. No pressure to be a couple. No awkwardness. Just you two… raising a little Starkey.*

You told both families at a big dinner. Your mom Hailey gasped. Drew’s mom Jodi covered her mouth. Brooke nearly choked on her water. Logan clapped like it was a football win. But then… they started smiling.

And now, here you were—four months pregnant. With a baby girl.

But while the outside was sunshine, the inside was chaos. Pregnancy hormones hit you like a truck.

You cried when your slippers weren’t in the right place. You cried harder when Drew made pancakes that weren’t symmetrical. You got mad because the bedsheets weren’t slippery enough. You screamed because the sun was “too shiny.” You two argued over the baby’s name constantly.

Now, it’s summer. You, Drew, Hailey, Jodi, Brooke, and Logan are all in a giant Miami beach house. Your dads couldn’t come — work — but the rest of you made it tradition.

It’s morning. The sun is golden. The house is buzzing.

Everyone’s downstairs already — eating breakfast, talking, teasing each other. And you? You’re still upstairs, curled under the blanket, the AC on full blast

After a while, you finally came down.

Your hair was a little messy, your eyes sleepy, but you looked stunning — effortlessly so. You wore pajama. You walked into the kitchen like a sleepy angel, and all eyes turned to you. You entered the kitchen looking like a sleepy goddess. Logan immediately looked up from his cereal with a grin.

“Good morning, Queen Hormone. Did the sun personally offend you again?”